You and I
by Xerxies19
Summary: Four years ago Seifer left him without a word, and yet Hayner still can't stop writing songs about him or crying on stage every time he sings them. He'll wait for Seifer forever, but will the scarred man ever come back to him? Seiner SeiferxHayner AU


A/N: Fairly short fic I wrote in a single day in response to a fanart someone drew me, also quite possibly the most dense overuse of the word "fuck" I've written to date because apparently Hayner as a rockstar is even more pissy and foul-mouthed than he is usually. Lyrics to "Gives You Hell" are copyright All American Rejects/Interscope records. I actually decided to make Seifer fall victim to a hilariously absurd unfortunate circumstance this time, gave Hayner a break for once.

* * *

><p>"Hey guys and gals, just wanted to thank you all for coming tonight. This is the first day of our <em>third<em> tour, can you believe it?" Hayner paused to take another swig of a near-empty bottle he had wrapped in a brown paper bag as cheers momentarily filled the air, "I know some shit's been flying around about me, rumors, lies, you've all heard 'em. So I just thought I'd clear the air with all of you, because you've shelled out fortunes to come to all my concerts, you guys deserve to be the first to know."

He took a deep breath from his position sitting on the stage, just staring out at all his fans as his bandmates quietly backed him up and his manager pissed herself somewhere backstage, "I'm gay. Flaming rainbows, never even kissed a girl, homosexual. And my boss is going to murder me for saying that to you."

He let the mic fall away from his face, heart hammering in his chest, because he just came out to fifty-thousand people, and by tomorrow, the whole fucking world. They could say he was a twink, a cocksucker, a fag, or whatever other derogatory term they could conjure up, but no one could say he didn't have balls. After a few long seconds of silence the crowd roared back to life, cheers and applause echoing through the stadium. This was going a hell of a lot better than he expected. Taking one last drink, he smiled a bit and pulled the bottle out.

"Those tabloids always bitch that I have a drinking problem because I'm always drinking this onstage. It's fucking water, always has been, always will be. Perception's a bitch, isn't it? At least now they have something else to write about me, right? Anyways, enough of this shit, let's get back to the reason you're all here, the music!"

They screamed, and he turned to his bandmates and mouthed the song he wanted to play for the encore. For a moment they all gave him a look, because yeah, this song hadn't even come out yet, but he knew they could play it perfectly after doing it over and over in the studio the last few weeks between tours. Roxas smiled at him, shifting his bass guitar a little, and the rest of them followed suit, because if they were going to completely throw their fans for a loop, they might as well give them a special show.

"Alright, since my manager is already plotting my slow painful death anyway, we're going to end the night with our new single that's not coming out till next week," he waited until they stopped shouting so loud even he couldn't be heard over them, "This one's about a guy I dated before I got into the music business, went out with him for two years before he left without a word and didn't come back. So I formed a band and became a fucking rockstar. I love him, but you know what? _Fuck him."_

He waited as the beginning of the song started, smiling and trying really hard not to think of how much he still fucking loved the asshole he wrote half his damn songs about. Even though the song he was about to sing made it seem like he didn't, he did, it was just an attempt to snap some sense into himself. People weren't supposed to stay in love with beautiful, sexy assholes that just walked out one day while they were at work without so much as a note, and didn't call or try to contact them for four damn years. And it wasn't like he was hard to find, he was on the cover of a magazine just about every week.

"_I wake up every evening, with a big smile on my face. And it never feels out of place. And you're still probably working, at a nine to five pace, I wonder how bad that tastes? When you see my face hope it gives you hell, hope it gives you hell. When you walk my way hope it gives you hell, hope it gives you hell. Now where's your picket fence, love? And where's that shiny car, and did it ever get you far? You never seemed so tense, love, I've never seen you fall so hard. Do you know where you are? And truth be told I miss you, and truth be told I'm lyin'. When you see my face hope it gives you hell, hope it gives you hell. When you walk my way hope it gives you hell, hope it gives you hell. If you find a man that's worth a damn and treats you well, then he's a fool you're just as well, hope it gives you hell. I hope it gives you hell. Tomorrow you'll be thinking to yourself, yeah where did it all go wrong? But the list goes on and on."_

He continued with the chorus, hitting that performance high somewhere in the middle and everything blurred. This song, like most of his compositions about Seifer, made him feel like crying. But he was done shedding tears over that asshole; he was done the last dozen times he cried on stage. That arrogant dick ruined him, turned him into a mess every time he thought about him.

"_Now you'll never see, what you've done to me. You can take back your memories, they're no good to me. And here's all your lies, you can look me in the eyes, with the sad, sad look that you wear so well."_

The rest of the band and the crowd joined in for the last chorus at prompting from him, and he felt truly heady, almost enough to think he could actually handle the media shitstorm awaiting him tonight, tomorrow, and for the rest of the week until his gayness was old news. The song ended, and he thanked the audience and crept backstage, thoroughly expecting to immediately be strangled. His manager was on the phone, looking much less grim than he expected. She nodded, smiled a bit, and said something he didn't catch before hanging up, tucking the phone in her suit pocket.

"That silence you heard from the crowd after your daring little announcement was them blowing up every social network that matters with the news, and I just got three calls. One from the big bosses telling me your announcement and the new single you weren't supposed to sing until it came out are already on YouTube. Both have half a million views each and counting, and our website has already crashed from the traffic. They are actually feeling quite positive about tonight. The other two were from gay-community magazines that want to do a front page spread on you, and no that wasn't an innuendo so stop laughing. I told them yes. Hope you're up for an interview at eight am today. I'm sure the major news networks are going to tear into you too."

"Uh, so you're not going to kill me in my sleep?" He asked, dumbfounded by the flood of information as he was coming down.

"No, I believe you just made us the most popular modern rock band of the month. Ticket sales for tour dates months from now are already sold out, including ones that opened as of midnight tonight. Plus, if I was going to kill you, I would not wait until you were asleep. You wouldn't suffer that way," she said with a smile, adjusting her glasses.

"You terrify me."

"That, Mr. Dincht, is precisely my job. Try to get some rest if you can, you've got a hell of a week ahead."

Breathing a sigh of relief as she retreated further backstage, probably to take more calls, he got a slap on the back from his best friend. Turning to Roxas with a shit-eating grin, he saw his other companions smirking at him as well. Olette tackled him in a hug and Axel just looked approving as he held his boyfriend's hand. Demyx was busy kissing Zexion, their lighting expert, as usual.

"We're proud of you, Hayner. Now if only you could get over that heartless fuckhead you're still head over heels for."

He started walking, because he'd heard this speech a million times, whenever he gave them the lyrics to a song he wrote about his ex-boyfriend, whenever he cried during a performance, and just whenever Roxas felt like bringing it up again. He was hanging on just fine, and his broken heart had given him the inspiration for all the songs that shoved them to the number one spot on the charts over and over again. The sandy-blond man didn't see what the big problem was. His hand unconsciously went to the ring he wore on a chain around his neck, the ring that had been there for five years now.

"You're still wearing his ring, still sleeping with it, after four years of not seeing or hearing from him. What part of that makes sense to you, Hay? He left you, Hayner, he doesn't care about you anymore, so let him go already."

"Roxas, I adore you, I do. But I am this close to breaking your nose again."

There was a roadie in a black hoody, face completely in shadow as he smoked while leaning up against the wall outside the stadium as they walked by. Hayner was pretty sure he hadn't met the guy yet, which didn't make sense because every roadie had asked for his autograph at least once, even if the lead singer wasn't the main reason they followed the band. He was about to approach the guy when his spiky-haired friend shoved him roughly back toward the cars waiting to take them to their hotel.

"Why can't you just forget him, Hayner? Really, what the hell is it about Seifer Almasy that keeps him in your head all the time?"

"I love him, okay? I've loved him for a damn decade, and fuck everyone else, but I'm always going to love him. Why can't I forget him? Try forgetting how you feel about Axel, Roxie. Olette, why don't you try forgetting about Pence? Dem and Zex, try forgetting about each other. Not working very well, is it?" He snapped as his temper rose, not walking in favor of talking to them and glancing over to the black-clad mystery figure that seemed to be listening in on the conversation as he blew smoke into the night air.

"Yeah, but we're all together _now_, Hayner," Olette answered, clearly trying to pick up the slack for Roxas before he got his face smashed in, "Seifer left you four years ago. You haven't dated anyone since, and don't tell me it was because you were in the closet, because you've had one night stands with a dozen guys since we started our touring. Let him go already, please, for us?"

"**I can't!" **He roared before turning and jogging to his car, slamming the door shut and telling the driver to go already.

He shoved his head in his hands and breathed deep, calming himself before pulling out his smart phone and trying to pull up their forum. His boss wasn't kidding, it was completely down. However, the only person he really wanted to talk to there he could text, and he did so. There was a guy who had white-knighted Hayner on the forums since they put them up on the website, he went by Le Chevalier Mal Fet and was pretty fucking awesome. He acted so much like Seifer had that during fleeting moments of hopeless day dreaming sometimes the singer actually wondered if he was. But no, the man with ice-colored eyes left him and didn't care enough to tell him why, the bastard would never spend like a thousand hours over three years verbally smashing heads on a forum to put fans who didn't like the blond lead in their place. Right?

He smiled as he got a text back, praising him for finally coming out, and saying how much he loved the new single. Saying he was sorry that some asshole wasn't smart enough to realize what he had when he had it. He replied that he wasn't exactly a rockstar back then, that maybe…maybe he had a good reason for leaving. Because it was Seifer, he always had a reason for what he did. The next text wasn't something he wanted to deal with.

_-Is he the reason you cry on stage? Is he the one you write all your songs for?-_

_-Yeah, he's the guy I can never get over, even if I say I have. So, you're okay with the whole gay thing?-_

He guessed the other man was, otherwise why would he still be responding to his texts and saying he was proud of the brown-eyed blond for outing himself? But he wanted to make sure, because he really, really didn't want to lose his knight. Yes, it was completely moronic to care so much about a guy he'd never met who only talked to him through emails, posts, and texts, and no, he didn't give a shit.

_-Uh, yeah. Most of us have known you were batting for the other team for a while, Hay, and I'm gay myself, so definitely don't have a problem with it. I hope you find a guy who really deserves you, unlike the dipshit that left you and makes you cry every other week.-_

He instantly felt a lot better, though of course he had to respond defending his ex because he was an idiot. Expecting another text from Chevalier, he was surprised when his phone vibrated again and it was from his bass player. Roxas was apologizing for pushing him again, and then continued on about the issue like it was okay to do the same thing if he said he was sorry. Ignoring it, he set his phone down and let his head loll back, hoping they were almost to the hotel. The blond singer had a room by himself because he was the only member of the band without a significant other, so he could just crash and talk to his friend the rest of morning until he had to do interviews.

As he walked into the hotel and got his keycard, he looked askance at the bar the next room over, considering it. It would be easy to stop in and pick up someone to fuck, or someone to fuck him. He was attractive enough to snag people in bars without needing to stick around long, and the whole rockstar thing didn't really hurt his chances either. But then his phone vibrated and it was Chevalier texting him that both videos had passed a million views each, and he decided to just stick with the familiar. Heading up to the room and smiling a little as he flopped on the bed and replied, he was quite content to do this for another four hours until he had to get dressed and ready again.

* * *

><p>"So, Mr. Dincht-"<p>

"Please, just call me Hayner. Only my manager calls me Mr. Dincht, and I've come to expect pain every time I hear it," he interrupted the interviewer, bringing the ball back into his court for the moment.

"Hayner, why did you wait to come out to your fans for so long?"

"Because I didn't want to be known as 'that lonely gay lead singer who writes dozens of songs about the same guy'. Now I'm, 'that lonely gay lead singer that came out to everyone at the end of a concert and has a lot of balls, and writes dozens of songs about the same guy'. You can see how one is much better than the other. Also, I had the biggest following of female fans, and my manager was worried coming out would turn them away. Way I see it, the real fans are here for the music, not to fantasize about getting into my pants."

"Well said, and were you worried about the fans' reaction, or were you fairly certain most of them would be tolerant of you because three of your other bandmates are also in a relationship with members of the same gender?"

"Well, Roxas, Axel, and Demyx are bisexual, and to the homophobic, or let's just call them stupid, section of our population, that just means they're sluts. Being a slut is much more accepted by pop culture than being gay, as I'm sure you've noticed when you turn on your television. Lots of sluts, not a lot of gays. So I was pretty worried I'd get booed off stage, or physically attacked, and I'm not going to say I'm not still a little wary of that happening. It sure as hell isn't going to stop me from being happy with who I am, or from making great music."

"So you say a lot of your songs are written about the same person? Any particular reason you have so much feeling attached to him?"

"This is going to sound really pathetic, so don't laugh, but…I've only ever been in a serious relationship with one person in my life. I was in love with him since I was thirteen, actually got to be with him for two years, and then he just disappeared. I never saw him again, or found out where he went, what happened to him…It's actually in my contract that I'm banned from searching for him, the website automatically blocks any posts in reference to him even, but my boss promised if he died she'd tell me. I gave him my ring, and he gave me his, I still wear it. His name is Seifer Almasy, and I still love him, even though I haven't heard from him in four years. Kinda sad, you know?"

The interviewer was just sort of staring at him, the tape recorder still ticking the time off but his pencil had stopped its scribbling. He seemed shocked at his admission, the obvious raw feelings still lurking around the scarred man's name every time he said it. The older man took off his glasses, set them on the table, and leaned back in his chair. His dark blue eyes were contemplative as he observed the other man.

"What was this Seifer like? Feel free to decline to answer."

"He's a bastard, obviously, he's left me hanging for this long. But, he's also kind, protective, gentle, thoughtful, passionate and strong. We used to fight a lot before we dated, quite violently I might add, and all that ardor and physical energy ended up transferring very easily into our relationship once we admitted that we loved each other. It was like, as soon as we accepted our feelings, everything just slotted together perfectly. He's the most important person in my life, and I hope one day I'll get to see him again."

"So, say he came back tomorrow, would you take him back, or would he need to earn your trust again?"

"I…don't know. If he had a good reason for leaving, then yeah, I'd take him back," he sighed, "I sound like a lovesick puppy, don't I? I am the worst rockstar ever."

The other snorted, answering, "You sound like someone who misses their soulmate, Hayner. As far as the rockstar part, I don't necessarily think that's a bad thing. I'll admit I was quite surprised that the brown paper bag you always have onstage with you contained water, do you drink alcohol at all?"

"I've been known to do a few shots in dive bars during those magical nights when I don't have a show the next night, a twelve hour drive to sit through, or an interview in six hours. Otherwise, I think drinking on the job or any time it'll hinder my performance or cause me to make more of an ass of myself than I do naturally is unprofessional. I take this job seriously, I know I've been given a chance most people can only dream of, and I'm not going to waste it by acting like a child."

"This last question was put in here by my boss, who is not very…tactful all the time, so if I offend you I apologize deeply. Is Seifer the reason you cry during performances? It's been something a lot of fans have asked about for years, you take baring your soul during concerts to a new level when you sing, and a lot of people want to know who or what brings that on."

"Yeah, it's Seifer. I don't mean to cry, it just sorta comes when I'm singing a song I wrote about him. I can't effectively drown my sorrows in booze, drugs, or another person, so I've gotta let it out somehow. I guess my fans can thank him for me even being here, if he didn't leave I would never have formed the band, much less written a lot of my songs. If he ever did come back, I guess they'd have to deal with an entire album of sappy love songs, instead of tragic or angry ones. I'd still write the songs for my fans, or the ones about other things, but the ones I write about Seifer are really intended _for_ him. Like, in the event he happened to be listening to the radio, he could hear what I want to tell him but can't. Except I lie a lot, like every time I say I don't miss him."

The interview wrapped up and the journalist shook his hand with a smile, saying he'd be careful not to quote him out of context because obviously a lot of these topics were incredibly touchy. The next one went similarly, although he didn't quite admit as much. There was only so much he could talk about shit like this out loud before he just broke down, got drunk, and cried himself to sleep. He was definitely the most pathetic wildly successful lead singer ever.

* * *

><p>It was three shows later he noticed that same unknown roadie sitting backstage on his phone in one of the larger corridors. He'd gotten a text from Chevalier during the concert, so he ignored the man for the moment in favor of replying to him, fairly certain the guy in the hoodie hadn't seen him yet anyway. Sending the message, he heard the other man's phone vibrate a couple seconds later, finding that a bit odd. Just coincidence, there were millions of texts that arrived at the same time every second or something like that. Curious regardless, he watched the well-built man write out a text and send it, laying his phone down on his thigh again, and a few seconds later, he got a reply from his white knight, suddenly very thankful his phone was on silent. Okay, maybe that was kind of suspicious.<p>

Knowing he was most likely just going batshit crazy, but unable to avoid testing it further, he wrote a nonsense text and sent it. Lo and behold, the roadie cocked his head and mumbled something that sounded a lot like 'what the fuck' as soon as he looked at the text. Pulling up Chevalier's number and hitting the call button, he waited, more than a little shocked when he could hear a ringtone of their newest single, and as soon as the other male tapped his screen, the call was lost. That was just too fucking perfect.

"You're Chevalier, aren't you?" He said loudly, more than a little annoyed that the guy couldn't just come talk to him if he was so close.

The man he'd been talking to for three years swore, stood up, and ran down the hallway, right out the door to the outside. Taking off after him, he was surprised with how athletic he was, Hayner had already lost him in the parking lot outside and he'd only been a few seconds behind. Swearing, he noticed someone else in the otherwise empty lot that held the band's vehicles and trailers, wondering what they were doing out here. They started walking toward him, and he sensed some hostility, but he wasn't really one to run from anything, so he held his ground. They were probably just a disgruntled fan that wanted to yell at him or something.

"Can I help you with something buddy?" He asked as the man entered the ten-foot radius circle generally accepted as talking range.

"Yeah, you can explain to me why a fag thinks he has anything to be proud of. You make me fucking sick, your kind doesn't belong on the front page of magazines, you belong in the fucking obituaries."

"Hey man, I'm just a singer in a rock and roll band, I didn't do anything to you so why don't you just back the fuck off?"

The aggressor moved faster than he expected, fist smashing into the side of Hayner's skull hard enough to make him see stars. He'd obviously gotten rusty after six years of not fighting Seifer. Managing to stay upright, he was far too disoriented to dodge the second punch either, this one breaking his nose and sending him to the ground. Scrambling to his feet and backing away, he tried to pull out his phone to call security or something, but then the other man pulled a gun. And this about where he was pretty sure he was fucked.

All he registered in the next few seconds was being shoved to the ground, a gunshot, and still being alive. His knight in fucking shining armor was standing in front of him, and in the glare of the parking lot lights he could see a wet stain spreading quickly around a tear in his hoodie. The guy had taken a fucking bullet in the chest for him. _What the fuck._ Moving in a way that seemed really familiar, but maybe it was the head injury and adrenaline talking, Chevalier disarmed the guy and shattered his jaw and a couple ribs. He took a few steps back from the prone body before falling to his knees and coughing a disturbing amount of blood onto the pavement and flopping wetly onto his back.

Moving over to his side before he actually thought about what he was doing, he unzipped the man's hoodie and pulled it open, applying pressure to both sides of the rather horrific wound in his right lung. If he wasn't panicking before, he sure as fuck was now, because his savior was bleeding out in a parking lot.

"Shit, I need to call 911," he swore, fumbling for his phone.

"Already did, should be here any minute," the wounded man said, and that voice was enough to make his heart stop.

Stunned, he turned to actually look at the guy for the first time, and it took several seconds for those beautifully pale eyes and that scar to sink in enough for him to even comprehend them. _Oh. My. God._

"**Seifer? What the fuck?"** He shouted loud enough for it to echo off the building next to them, beyond hysterical at this point, because this was too much to fucking handle in one night, or in one lifetime for that matter.

"Hi, Hayner. I'd explain," he coughed again, blood steadily streaming out of the side of his mouth in the most terrifying way possible, "But I'm going into shock and I can't breathe."

Everything was suddenly a million times more terrible, because this wasn't just his texting buddy dying in front of him, it was the man he loved more than life itself. He knew he was crying even though he was numb to everything at the moment, and Seifer reached up to thumb his tears away with a sad smile.

"Come on Hay, don't cry. I can't stand it when I have to see you cry over me."

His head was spinning and the blood roared in his ears so powerfully he didn't even hear the sirens until the paramedics physically pulled him off and started dragging him toward the ambulance. The brown-eyed singer tried to fight them off and he was certain he decked one just before they jabbed a needle full of sedative into his arm and everything went blurry. He couldn't say for sure, but he thought he was repeating his boyfriend's name over and over when he lost consciousness completely.

* * *

><p>Twelve hours later found the sandy-blond man in a hospital bed, full of painkillers and a sedative they'd given him after he had a nervous breakdown so severe he passed out from high blood pressure. Last he knew the scarred blond still wasn't out of surgery and was in critical condition. Of course no one would tell him a fucking thing because he was apparently too mentally unstable to know if the love of his life was going to survive or not. Roxas, Pence and Olette were sitting with him, looking incredibly downcast. He knew they'd known about Seifer the entire time he was there, however long that was, there was no way the man's identity could have been hidden for so long unless everyone was in on it. Hayner might not kill them, but he was definitely going to choke his manager to death for hiring the guy and not having the decency to tell her lead singer.<p>

Finally the bitch walked in, her hair and pants suit a mess. At this moment he never wished looks could kill more, because if they could she'd already be a bloody spot on the floor. Clearly whatever drug they'd given him wasn't enough to handle his rage.

"Seifer just came out of surgery, and he's going to be fine. He'll have to stay in the hospital for at least two weeks, and won't be able to do much for several months, but he should fully recover barring any complications. I…I'm so sorry I couldn't tell you about him, Hayner. When he came onto the crew at the beginning of this tour he made all of us swear we wouldn't give his identity away. He wanted to talk to you at the end of the tour, when it wouldn't affect your ability to perform, and until then he just wanted to be around to protect you in case anything happened."

"I don't care what you promised him, you fucking assholes never should have kept something like that from me. I've never been so angry in my goddamn life. I'm not going to do a concert until he's out of the hospital, I don't give a shit what my contract says. Drop me from the label if you want to."

"I already canceled the next three concerts, Hayner. You're in no condition to go up on stage, physically or mentally. The fans understand, the record company understands, everyone does. Just try to get some rest, okay? As soon as Seifer comes around we'll let you know, I promise."

Letting his fury simmer for the moment, he just nodded, tight-lipped. Yelling wasn't going to get him anywhere, nothing was going to be okay until the center of his life woke up.

* * *

><p>Hayner spent the next week alternately sleeping, crying, writing songs, and being furious at everything. He was stuck in a hotel because apparently he couldn't sleep in the hospital's waiting room, which was just ridiculous to him. Since he was stupid and in denial he'd tried to text Chevalier about forty times now, dropping the phone like it burned him every time he remembered. Everyone had tried to call him or visit him in the hotel room, but he wouldn't open the door for anyone but room service because he just couldn't fucking deal with another human being right now.<p>

A knock on his door pulled him out of his thoughts and he shouted at them to fuck off. His manager's voice filtered through the door but he couldn't understand her at this distance, so he walked closer and asked her to repeat herself. Maybe she'd tell him he was fired and he could do whatever the fuck he wanted. One could only hope.

"Seifer is awake, and he wants to see you, did you want to-" She halted midsentence as the door swung open and he walked out, asking her why the fuck she wasn't following him.

His mind quite happily just tuned out the entire ride over, skipping right to the part where he got to see the scarred bastard again. The man that had occupied his thoughts ceaselessly for as long as he could remember was arguing with a doctor when he walked into the room, both of them halting to look at him. The graying man in a white coat scurried out the door, clearly reading the sandy-blond man's murderous intentions directed at him. Hayner walked over to the bed, noting that Seifer was still wearing the ring he'd given him five years ago on his left ring finger.

"Nothing I say or do can make up for what I've done to you, I'm so sorry, Hayner."

He sighed, sitting on the edge of the bed, "Try me, Seif."

"You're not going to believe me…My little sister Namine went into a coma out of fuck all nowhere, and she was living in France at the time studying at a school of art for her senior year of high school. So I basically grabbed my keys and the passport I got when I originally got her set up over there and booked the soonest flight I could, which left an hour after I got the call. I didn't leave a note because I was going to call you as soon as I got to the hospital and I knew you were used to me disappearing for a day when something happened, so I didn't think much of it. I passed out as soon as I get to the hospital and learned the situation, and then I got hit by a car crossing the street to get food somewhere other than a hospital cafeteria. Cracked my skull and had retrograde amnesia so bad I couldn't remember my own name.

"Namine stayed in her coma for a damn year, during which time I managed to learn French and relearn English, but didn't know much other than what was on my license, and that I had a ring on my finger. It wasn't until I heard your voice on the radio that I even remembered who you were, and around that time Nam woke up and I had to continue to take care of her for several more months. By the time we made it back to the states, your band had made it to the top of the charts and a year and a half had passed since I left. I knew all your songs were about me, and you seemed so mad and hurt all the time, I couldn't come back to you. Not after I did something like that. I don't deserve you Hay, and I probably never did, I wish you'd realize that and go find someone else. Please don't cry anymore."

He just let the tears fall as he backhanded the other hard enough to leave a mark, "Fuck you, Seifer Almasy. I do believe you, because you have no reason to lie to me and that is the most ridiculous story I've ever heard in my life. You are a bastard and a coward and I hate you."

Hayner didn't mean the last part at all, he could never hate the blue-eyed man. But he was just so fucking angry with the older blond he couldn't help himself. Really, after waiting for him for this long, he was allowed to be furious, right?

"I understand. What city are we in, anyway?" He asked with a resigned tone, looking unimaginably tired.

"Fuck if I know, asshole. I don't even know what fucking day of the week or month it is. What the hell kind of question is that?"

"Shit, I'll have to figure out where the train station is," he said more to himself, rubbing his eyes irritably.

"What are you even talking about?" Hayner bit out, hating being left out of the loop, again.

"Well I need to get home somehow, and it's not like I have a car I can drive there."

"I still don't get it."

"Hayner, I know you're not stupid. I'm a fucking roadie, the only reason I'm here is so I can move equipment around and just generally do manual labor. I can't lift anything in my condition, and as it is I've caused you to miss a ton of concerts, there's no way I'm going to keep my job. I have to head home and try to find a job there again."

"You are literally the most moronic person on the planet. Oh my _god_. You're staying with me. You're my fucking boyfriend, just because you disappeared and impossible shit happened doesn't mean we're broken up until I damn well say it does. You're my biggest fucking fan, you've read every article about me and talked to me all day almost every day for years, you know I still love you. You can't leave me again, you have a hell of a lot to make up for, and I expect you to start now."

He smiled for the first time in a week and leaned down to kiss his other half, already thinking of lyrics to a sappy, pathetic love song he was going to write as soon as he got the chance. It was funny how the blue-eyed blond managed to make anger and hurt that had built up for years just suddenly disappear. Sure Hayner was still bitter about it, but he couldn't exactly stay angry at the man he loved for getting hit by a car and having the most absurd complexes ever. Especially not after Seifer had taken a bullet and almost died for him.

"So, do you think your fans will be pissed at me or question my story?" The larger man joked as his thumb rubbed circles into his boyfriend's thigh through his pants.

"I am sure some will, but don't worry, I'll back you up. You've been doing it for me for years, probably time I returned the favor. Also, by the way, when the fuck did you start smoking?"

That annoying smirk he'd missed so much was firmly in place again, and maybe he was falling in love all over again. They had a lot to catch up on, but then it wasn't like either of them had anything else to do for the moment. It really was completely tragic that sex was out of the question for a while. Oh well, there would be time for that later.

* * *

><p>Three months had passed and their tour was at its end, Seifer had mostly stopped smoking although Hayner occasionally still caught him doing it, and everything was going way better than he could have hoped. His fans adored his sappy love songs, and didn't seem to care that he wasn't a moody bitch that cried all the time anymore. He was still the lamest rockstar to ever exist, but he was probably also the happiest, so fuck everyone else and their expectations. He didn't need cocaine to be high as a kite, he had something way better, and a lot more addicting.<p>

The brown-eyed man and his partner had fit back together easily, they were both a little different after so long, but if anything it made their relationship more interesting. Hayner was much more confident now than he had been four years ago, and as such didn't have an inferiority complex anymore, and that had always been a huge problem between them. He never once rubbed his fame and fortune in his boyfriend's face, because without Seifer he wouldn't be where he was now. Hell, without the older blond he wouldn't even be _alive_.

In addition to all this, his significant other could speak French fluently, and he loved it way more than could possibly be considered healthy. He was pretty sure the other wasn't talking dirty to him most of the time, but the way his lips and tongue formed around the syllables was sexier than anything had any right to be. And yet, every morning when they woke up tangled together the man with pale blue eyes kissed his forehead and whispered something that was nothing but loving, and that, more than everything, was Hayner's favorite part of the day.

"Hey Hayner, mind if we step outside and get some air?" The scarred man asked, tugging on his hand to get his attention over the sound of the party they were having to celebrate.

He nodded, letting himself be lead out the door, down the hallway, and out of the hotel altogether. They were at one of those fancy places with a courtyard that had a giant fountain, which his boyfriend was leading him for. Sitting down on the ledge, he looked up at the sky, the lack of stars not really bothering him. He was used to a mostly empty sky, and besides, the man at his side was more brilliant than any celestial body could hope to be. Seifer was standing in front of him instead of sitting down, which confused him because typically the older man liked to maintain bodily contact as often as possible. And then his lover went down on one knee. And then he produced a small box from his pocket. That's about when the singer decided he was hallucinating, dreaming, or dead, because this was too fantastic to actually be happening in real life.

"Hayner, will you marry me?"

He couldn't actually get his mouth to form words, so he settled for grabbing the man he'd waited four years for by the shirt and yanking him into a kiss. He waited until his fiancé slipped the ring on before dragging them both backwards into the fountain, laughing at the shocked look on the other's face. They wrestled in the half-foot deep water for a few minutes, never having quite given up the need to fight for dominance every once in a while, until they were both completely soaking wet. Luckily they didn't carry their wallets on them to parties and their phones could be easily replaced, not that they actually gave a shit about anything but each other at the moment.

Dragging themselves out of the water and wringing out their clothes as best they could, they walked back into the party, fully intending to just pretend like they weren't dripping all over the floor. They were so giddy people would probably glaze right over their appearance to wonder at their apparent sudden descent into mania. They may have taken the long and painful way to where they were today, but they got there together. To Hayner at least, that was the important part. And being a famous millionaire rockstar was pretty cool too, he guessed.


End file.
